


Tainted Grace

by nefariousAquarius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, its demon dean but its because of hell not because of mark of cain, this takes place post season three so like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 04:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17358761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefariousAquarius/pseuds/nefariousAquarius
Summary: Dean became a demon after two years. 240 years in hell, that is. This is an AU where Dean was sent to hell but never rescued by the angels because it was too late. He becomes one of the monsters he always hated, a delves in the new freedom it brings, while also avoiding his brother, who wants desperately to bring him home happy and human.





	Tainted Grace

Dean couldn’t even remember himself anymore. The part of himself that felt human, that felt emotion towards the things in his life, towards what had happened, and what he had done, it had all burned away, just like everyone had told him it would. He hadn’t quite believed it, but as he sliced and carved into the other tormented souls thrown in the pit with him, he lost all of the feelings; the regret, the pain, the trauma. It had all just been washed out by the anguished cries of others begging him to stop the torture.

But he didn’t want to stop.

The more Dean lost himself, the better everything felt- and that was one the one feeling he clung to most. He had hoped he might’ve been saved, and, in a messed up and desperate way, maybe even hoped Sam had sold his own soul so he could escape this miserable place. Not that he would have ever wished this upon his little brother, but he just wanted everything to end. It never did, and Dean was never saved. Alastair had eventually taught him all he needed to know and had moved on to his own work, and Dean had been stationed in many different areas in hell; interrogation, torturing, etc.. It was mostly what he was good at.

Except now. Dean had taken his own vessel, a man about his age when he himself had died, and was sent to make some mischief with some hunters and leave, creating omens and killings, and then leave. Which is what he did, mostly. A lot of it was messing with people’s lives too, a young girl waking up to find herself halfway across the country, a man cheating on his wife, rich people spending money on illegal things they would have never dreamed of buying, but somehow did. Of course, not a single person had caught him, which is why he avoided running into the one person he knew might. Sam Winchester, and the demon, Ruby, he paraded around with. Not out of fear, but knowing what Sam was capable of on his own, more so since he’d heard around that his powers had jump-started again, except now he could exorcize demons without a word. So, the older Winchester had decided not to go near him if he could help it, and he stuck to his own mischief-making course of action, which he assumed no one could track if he kept switching from vessel to vessel. However, he’d learned from too much experience not to underestimate his brother. Dean kept his distance.

He only needed to do whatever petty job Hell had in store for him, and move on.

Dean’s next petty job was working with a few other demons that had come up to help, to kill off a couple angels. There were very few of these apparently, most demons hadn’t even known angels were a thing up until now, standing on this battlefield. Hell, Dean himself had never believed there were angels up until they started causing problems downstairs. These angels were supposed to show up here, an old, empty parking lot. Small. Not that bad, there was only two angels and three of his own kind, including himself. Seemed unfair, although, he knew better than to underestimate the unknown. He held the sleek and unfamiliar blade in his hand, said to be the only thing that could kill an angel. The pompous angels at the other end held the same blades, which meant it could probably kill demons as well, and they twirled them in their hands with ease, ready to take them out. They stared them down like they were mere rodents compared to them, and the demons looked back at them with an overwhelming hatred they didn’t really know was possible, but with a sort of hesitant fear too. Before he knew it, they were charging towards each other, the angels’ faces stoic, as if this were a milk run, which only made the demons more malicious and angered. The angel possessing a female vessel stabbed the demon beside him, and Dean lunged at her with his own blade, but it was swiftly blocked by the other angel, one possessing a man with dark hair and blue eyes. He growled and swiped at the angel, but the angel showed no signs of struggle, defending himself from each blow with fluidity as if fighting was a sort of art form. The other demon, Lemain, had stabbed the other angel from behind, and it fell to the ground, her eyes and mouth opening to reveal a piercing flash of white light, before going dim, confirming the angel’s death. This had distracted the angel, who was taken by surprise when Dean sliced into his right side, the skin opening to reveal that same light, and the angel turned away from Dean, holding the wound as he yelled angrily and charged into Lemain, falling to the ground with him as he stabbed her. Dean stood there as the angel breathed heavily laying on the ground, looking over to his fallen comrade. He gripped the blade tight in his hands, ready to kill the damn thing. It was helpless, on the floor, unable to heal its own wounds and Dean walked over to him, a grin tugging at his lips as he did so, and the angel frowned towards him, a look of hatred in his eyes that was somewhat intimidating. 

The dark-haired angel in front of him trembled, blood flowing from his lips and his wound, his breathing shallow.

Dean hesitated.

“You aren’t going to call for help?”

The angel remained silent, glaring at him, his nose twitching and his lips curling ever so slightly into a grimace. Stubborn bastard would rather die than call for help. Dean nearly felt a shrivel of sympathy towards the wounded angel that stubbornly stood his ground, despite being struck down so quickly for a mission that was supposedly simple. Dean sighed and crouched next to him, looking at the glowing wound. The clever thing had launched his hand forward to smite him, but Dean’s reflexes got the better of him, and he grabbed the angel’s hand, pinning it down and stabbing it into the asphalt with the blade. The angel let out a small yelp, but held back any other signs of pain, looking back into Dean’s eyes. 

“Just kill me already,” the angel spoke, in a deep, gravelly voice. “Stop gloating.” Dean thought about it, and sure he was tempted to stab him right here, but he couldn’t pass up the chance to carve some information out of the thing. So, Dean stood up, dusting himself off, and picked up another angel blade from one of the dead vessels that lay around them, wiping the blood off on his shirt, before crouching down on the celestial’s other arm. He smirked and leaned in close, letting the blade graze over the angel’s cheek, a sliver of bright light flowing where he’d traced. The angel refusing to let out any sort of cry, purposely not giving him the satisfaction he desired. The demon snickered. 

“What’s your name?” Dean asked, his face still close to his. The angel turned his gaze away from him, and his body tensed. Dean spun around just in time to defend himself from the blade coming down on him. The person in front of him kicked Dean down, sending him a little farther, and had surely knocked the wind out of his lungs, the angel blade flying out of his hands. Dean growled angrily, and got to his feet quickly, before the knife was plunged into his shoulder, by none other than Ruby herself. He stumbled back a few steps, the knife hurting even more than he’d pictured, and her eyes widened at the sight of him in recognition. Dean grinned, pulling the knife from his shoulder and throwing it at her, but it stopped in mid-air from some other force stopping it. It clattered to the ground as Dean was launched against the wall of an abandoned building not too far from where he stood. His black gaze would dart from the ground to spot out the two figures rushing towards him, the ones he’s nearly dreaded to meet, Ruby and her beloved pet, Sam. All these months of getting off of Sam’s trail, and here he was, in the flesh. Sam was ready to tear him to pieces, but a look from Ruby stopped him. God, she really morphed him into her bitch during his absence. Dean fell to the ground, his back against the wall, as his face and shoulder spilled blood all over the asphalt from his recent injuries.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean spoke, a smile tugging at his lips as he weakly looked up at his little brother. Whatever was still human in him, whatever he thought had vanished for good, there was a small sliver of that within him, to be overwhelmingly filled with joy seeing his brother, freak or not. He coughed up more blood onto himself but kept looking at him. He hadn’t felt any raw emotion in so long, it practically alienated him from his situation for a mere, hot second.

“It’s Sam,” his brother growled. “Now, these angels, tell us why you’re killing them.” 

“It’s me, Sammy. It’s Dean” he spoke, breathing heavily between pauses. “This is a vessel...so, obviously I don’t look like... my usual handsome self.” Dean could feel his more demonic nature engulfing his human weaknesses back up again, like sealing the cracks of a broken porcelain doll with glue. Ruby seemed to snap out of it like she was refusing to say or do anything about this as if she wanted him dead. So when Sam looked over for her approval, she remained silent and stoic. Dean got up from the ground, holding onto the wall to maintain his balance, his demon eyes flicking away to reveal the vessel’s human eyes underneath. “Obviously not the most handsome devil on the block, but he’ll do. I was in a hot bathing suit model last week, you should’ve been there for that.”

Sam hated it. He sounded like Dean, and he could see his older brother in the way he carried himself, the way he looked towards him, even if it was through someone else’s eyes. 

 

“And a cheerleader before that, and a recently alleged drug dealer, a rich bachelor,” Sam spoke, and just hearing his voice made him feel nostalgic, a feeling he hadn’t had in a long time, before once again, it was shoved back down his throat. “Don’t think you slipped through our fingers, we’ve been tailing you ever since you killed that family in Wisconsin.” That’s right. The Carlunds, he did that. “And now to this guy who you took to go kill angels with,” Sam explained, and Dean glanced over his shoulder to see the angel was still laying there. Was he dead? Why was he staying? “Now, does that sound like Dean?”

“It does now” he scoffed in reply. “Poughkeepsie.”

With the one word, Sam’s entire perspective changes, his victorious look now one of defeat and shock. Only they shared that word as a warning. A codeword, to drop everything and run. One word and Sam knew. Dean grinned from ear to ear as Sam tried to process what was happening and took his chance to lunge at him, catching his brother completely off guard. Unfortunately, that didn’t quite go for Ruby, who pushed Sam out of the way, causing Dean to stumble over himself. Preparing himself to attack once again, he only caught a glimpse of pain crossing his brother’s face before the two vanished. 

Dean could feel his humanity creeping in, truly feeling again, this time an overwhelming sadness, and his black eyes veiled over once again as if his soul was trying to suppress the guilt and shame he felt. He couldn’t even stop himself from killing his own brother, he was far off the reservation that was for sure. Soon enough, the shadow overcame the light, and all he cared about was the angel sprawled on the ground behind him, expressionless as he held his side, attempting to heal himself with a flickering and failing light emitting from the hand. It resulted in nothing, of course, only bloodying his glowing palm. The demon snickered, striding over to him and looking down at him, meeting his eyes yet again. 

“What do you want?” it said. 

“Well first,” he said, crouching down and tearing the blade out of his other palm, planting a knee into the arm that lay there. The angel beneath him grumbled, only scowling at Dean.”I want your name. Then, I want your motives. And I want them in a clean, and orderly fashion. It’ll be my pleasure to carve it out of you the hard way, but I’d like to get this out of you quickly.”

The angel didn’t look at Dean, only ahead, full of pride. He was a stubborn nut to crack, but he would crack. A darkness sparked within him, the same darkness he’d felt torturing other people for years. He stabbed the angel in the shoulder. He didn’t want to kill it, not yet. But it would suffer if it refused to give information. The angel groaned in pain, finally letting it get to him, his pride slowly fading as he stared into the pitch black eyes of the demon before him. 

“A name,” he repeated, a harsher tone lacing his voice as he twisted the blade deeper into the angel’s shoulder. 

“Castiel,” the angel growled. “My name… is Castiel.”

Dean grinned devilishly. “Now we’re making progress!”

He pulled the angel blade out of Castiel’s shoulder, the blinding light shining through as blood spilled from the wound. “So, Cas- can I call you Cas?”

“No.”

“So, Cas,” Dean continued. “Who are you working for?”

Castiel shook underneath him, the pain from the angel blade lodged in his shoulder cavity. Dean had been trained in this, knowing how to pick and choose where the most painful spots on the body were. It was the same for an angel. The shoulder was a good spot, but about an inch to the left and he could stab it through the slight crevice between the arm and its socket. It's painful and effective. If Castiel refused to talk, he knew where to strike. However, it seemed unnecessary. 

The angel took a deep breath and sighed, “We were here searching for you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean froze, confused and struck that the angel knew his name beforehand. Why would they want him? He wasn’t special. His brother was one of Azazel’s finest creations, raving about the power Sam would one day wield. Dean was his lousy older brother. Why did they need Dean of all people? 

“We were hoping to find a demon with knowledge for where you were, but we found you anyways.”

“Why me?” Dean asked, gripping the angel blade tighter, ready to pull it out if he needed to. Cas didn't’ answer for a few seconds, and anger started to boil within him, mixed with the impatience he already felt. He yanked the blade from his shoulder, ready to slam it back down into the angel, but Castiel was too fast. With his other hand, he punched Dean off of him, and the angel blade clattered to the ground. When Dean turned back to retaliate, Castiel was gone. 

Dean got to his feet and straightened out the henley he wore, which was now stained with blood, as well as his hands and forearms. Not that it mattered, for he was going to find a new vessel. And Dean was going to get the hell away from his brother before he did something reckless and got himself killed. Again.

**Author's Note:**

> i dont really post regularly BUT i will try because i need to get back into writing.


End file.
